One of Walt's favorite walks is (go figure) along PCH. He ignores the noise and revels in the scents, takes forever to move a few feet. And so it is that we've become familiar with an odd little storefront on the beach side of the road. The windows are filthy, a glaze of greasy dust. The interior stays lit by the same few lamps, dim spills of amber amid Dickensian clutter. No one is ever around.

It's the front windows that really catch your eye, though, an eccentric collection of...things. Amid a lantern, a wax apple, and a few crispy orchids stand the true stars of the display, a parade of tall wooden nutcrackers, primary colors glowing, watching the world go by.